Mr. Critchlow extracted teeth, and his shop sign said “Bone-setter and chemist.” But Mr. Povey had his views.
“I make no account of Mr. Critchlow as a dentist,” said he.
“Then for goodness’ sake go up to Oulsnam’s.”
“When? I can’t very well go now, and to-morrow is Saturday.”
“Why can’t you go now?”
“Well, of course, I COULD go now,” he admitted.
“Let me advise you to go, then, and don’t come back with that tooth in your head. I shall be having you laid up next. Show some pluck, do!”
“Oh! pluck—!” he protested, hurt.
At that moment Constance came down the passage singing.
“Constance, my pet!” Mrs. Baines called.